


Another Thing to Fall

by rockstarpeach



Series: The First Time 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockstarpeach/pseuds/rockstarpeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU.  Pretty much his whole life, Jensen’s never wanted anybody but Misha.  They’re in love and they always have been, but how strong can Jensen be when the hottest freshman in the class he TAs for sets his sights on him?  Jensen has no intention of giving in, but Jared has no intention of giving up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Thing to Fall

The thing is, Jared’s hot.

He’s loud and he’s over the top and he’s only eighteen years old and he’s a huge fucking attention whore, but he’s hot. He’s way too sure of himself and he’s an unapologetic flirt and he’s overly obvious and he’s not any of the amazing things that Misha is, but he’s definitely hot.

He stares Jensen down for three hours each week, from two until five every Tuesday afternoon while he sits in the front row of Jensen’s classroom and takes notes that might or might not have anything to do with the _Intro to Psych_ tutorial that Jensen’s leading. His eyes wander over Jensen’s body, shamelessly, mentally undressing him and he tells Jared over and over, in no uncertain terms that he’s not interested. It maybe doesn’t always come across exactly how he wants it to, he maybe wavers a little, blushes and grins, because Jared’s _smile_ , Jesus fucking Christ.

The thing is, he’s _not_ interested. He’s honestly not. Sure, he’s flattered. Who wouldn’t be? The best looking guy in freshman psych (hell, probably the whole freshman class) is into him, very obviously and openly into him, so of course Jensen is flattered.

And if Jensen was in a situation to take advantage of that interest, he’d probably be all over it, rules be damned. Not that there _are_ actually any rules about TAs dating students (or fucking them over a desk during office hours) but he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be such a hot idea.

Not that it matters. He’s spoken for, in a big way. He’s got a boyfriend. A serious, long-term, been together since high school, lost their virginity to each other, never question their love in a million years, be together forever kind of boyfriend.

He’s twenty-three years old, he’s been with Misha for eight of those years and he’s _happy_. 

It’s not the first time he’s been pursued, not the first time someone has thrown themselves at him, so some new pretty boy with dimples to die for and ass that won’t fucking quit isn’t enough to turn his head. Not when he knows what he’s got at home, not when he has kind eyes and a wicked smile, skilled hands an even more skilled tongue, a sharp wit, a playful mind and a warm, gorgeous body that means _home_ to him as much as the apartment they share.

He loves Misha. He can’t imagine ever not loving Misha. But Jared is _hot_.

“Hey Jensen,” Jared greets happily as the class is filing out through the four sets of doors of the lecture hall and shock of shocks, Jared Padalecki is hanging back. Seven times now Jared has blatantly hit on him and seven times now Jensen has shot him down. And it’s only five weeks into the semester.

“Mr. Padalecki,” Jensen says, nodding his head with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“You can start by calling me ‘Jared’,” Jared tells him once again, all dimples and bangs and Jensen forces his lips into a straight line. There’s nothing about this boy that doesn’t make him want to grin his fucking ass off, but he doesn’t want to lead the guy on. “But there are a few things you went over today that I still don’t quite get. Maybe we could get together and you could… help me out?”

Jared’s tone and the playful tilt of his head make it painfully obvious just exactly what Jared wants help with. And it’s not psychology.

“My office hours are…” Jensen starts, closing up his notes and stuffing them into his bag. He just wants to get home, heat up some chilli, drink a beer and fuck his boyfriend. He doesn’t want to tell Jared, for the _eighth time_ , that he’s not interested.

“Yeah,” Jared cuts him off. “I know. Thing is, I got practice every afternoon this week.” Right. The kid’s on the track team. That explains why he’s got such nice legs. “What about later? Like… ten o’clock?”

“Ten o’clock?” Jensen asks him, eyes wide with amusement and mouth quirked up at the corners, like he can’t quite believe Jared actually just asked that. “On a Friday night? You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, and his brows furrow just enough that Jensen thinks he might honestly _be_ sorry. “It’s just… I need this shit for the test on Monday, and unless you can find some time on the weekend…”

“Then maybe you could set up a study group with your friends.”

Jared’s eyes drop to the desk between them for a moment before they rise again to meet Jensen’s. “Please,” he says and he sounds so honest that even though Jensen suspects it’s still an act, he can’t let him down. Jared really is struggling on this section and as much as he wishes Jared would leave him the hell alone, he doesn’t want the guy to do poorly just because Jensen would rather be out drinking with his friends.

“Fine,” Jensen sighs. “Friday at ten. In my office. One hour, tops, so have all your questions outlined beforehand so we’re not wasting time.”

“Thanks Jensen,” Jared smiles, eyes twinkling. He’s got that predatory gleam creeping back into his eyes and Jensen feels himself flush. Shit, this seriously has to stop.

“Any ideas you’ve got that go beyond teacher/student?” Jensen says, throwing his bag over his shoulder and leaning into Jared slightly, pitching his voice low. “Put them away.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared answers, but he’s smirking and Jensen scowls. He stiffens his spine as he walks out of the room before Jared, not looking back.

Fuck.

***

Jensen’s tense all the way home, just like he’s been after each time Jared’s hit on him. It’s getting worse though, this feeling, this itch under his skin like he’s done something wrong when he fucking hasn’t, damn it. He’s almost to the point where he’s going to ask Professor Morgan if he can switch sections and get Jared out of his hair once and for all. 

He won’t though. That would be unprofessional and more than a little immature. It’s not anyone’s fault but his own that Jared is getting to him and he knows he just has to deal with it, ignore Jared’s relentless pursuit and get the fuck on with things. Jared will lose interest soon enough, Jensen’s sure of that and in the mean time he’s just going to have to grin and bear it.

“Misha?” he calls, as he pushes the door open around three bags full of groceries that he’d stopped to pick up. He hates shopping, but he took the car today and that’s the deal. “You home, man?”

No answer.

Jensen shrugs and kicks the door shut behind him, carries the bags into the kitchen and starts to put away the food. Misha’s the chef in the family so he doesn’t bother to cook anything, just tosses food into the cupboard and fridge as necessary, then takes the large pot out of the fridge (chilli, like Jensen had wanted and he fucking _loves_ his boyfriend) and puts it on the stove to heat up. 

A half hour later he eats a bowl of it, drinks two beers and manages to get into a serious groove on the paper he’s writing for his physiology class. The paper isn’t due for another month but he’s always been kind of an overachiever, thinks he can probably knock the whole first draft off tonight if he can keep up pace. And doesn’t sleep.

But then the door opens and there goes that idea.

“Jensen!” Misha bellows from the hallway and Jensen can’t keep in his smile. His night of paper writing has officially gone to pot, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck, now that Misha’s home. “Woman, get your ass in the bedroom!”

Jensen laughs harder and waits for Misha to navigate the L shaped hallway to the living room. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his boyfriend was drunk. 

“Woman?” Jensen asks, with a raised eyebrow and a quirked lip. “Do I look like a woman to you?”

Misha narrows his eyes and stares into Jensen’s for all of three seconds. Then he looks him up and down, settles his gaze on Jensen’s crotch and licks his lips.

“No, thank God. We planted a tree in the girl’s locker room today. Naturally, there were girls there. Naked ones. With boobs. Richard and Mark got turned on, so they’re going home to hit up their girlfriends for sex. I figure I deserve some too.”

Here’s the thing about Misha – he’s… unique. Him and friends do all kinds of fucked up shit, like drain the swimming pool and fill it up with plastic balls or finger paint the teachings of the Dalai Lama on the side of physics building or, apparently, plant a tree in the girl’s locker room. And how exactly they managed that, Jensen’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know.

Jensen cringes every single fucking time, wants to wrap his arms around Misha and keep him from ever doing anything stupid ever again before he gets into some serious shit over it, but at the same time he loves it. Loves it because it’s Misha and it’s what he does and Jensen wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Jensen pushes his laptop aside as Misha shuffles forward, plants himself so he’s standing between Jensen’s thighs.

“Blow job,” Misha tells him after a moment’s consideration and with a decisive nod of his head. “I am man, suck my dick.”

Jensen snorts out a laugh, shakes his head, but smiles anyway and slowly opens Misha’s pants.

Jensen does what Misha tells him. Jensen _always_ does what Misha tells him. Sucks him so hard he forgets all about the tits he’s not interested in, swallows down every last drop and then fucks him over the coffee table so they can both watch _The Colbert Report_. 

“Do I smell chilli?” Misha asks after he’s come for the second time, all over the carpet. Jensen’s still sort of in the middle of something here, thanks, and he scowls and pushes harder, his fingernails digging sharply into Misha’s hips.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Misha curses, after a particularly brutal stab of Jensen’s dick. He falls forward, chest pressed flat against the table, eyes closed and mouth open. 

_Much better_ , Jensen thinks and he presses a hand down on Misha’s back to hold him there while he finishes. It’s only a few more thrusts, Jensen grunting and Misha letting out high-pitched moans that are just as much pain as pleasure at this point, just how Misha likes it and finally Jensen falls over the edge.

There’s nothing like it, nothing in the world that even comes close to the way this feels and he truly relaxes for the first time all day as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend and pulls them both up onto the couch. He’s still inside Misha, slowly softening and he lets out a gasp when Misha circles his hips, clenches tight around him.

“I love you,” Misha whispers as he turns his head, captures Jensen’s lips in an awkwardly angled kiss.

He grunts in frustration and lifts himself off Jensen’s lap, both of them letting out twin sighs of disappointment when Jensen slips free, before he straddles Jensen again, facing him this time. He kisses him again, better now. Much better and Jensen’s breath catches in his throat because _wow_. Misha can fucking _kiss_. He’s good at a lot of things – Jensen can’t even begin to name all the things that Misha does amazingly well – but kissing is squarely at the top of the list.

His lips are softer than they look and his tongue is warm and skilled and most of all, he knows Jensen better than he knows himself. There’s always just the right amount of teeth and never too much slobber and Jensen’s pretty much always on the verge of proposing after he’s been on the receiving end of one of those amazing kisses.

“Marry me,” he pants out after Misha pulls back, and okay, so maybe he’s followed through on his lust-driven instincts and _actually_ proposed a time or two. Or ten.

Misha laughs and takes Jensen’s hand, slides it down the small of his back and lower. His fingertips trail over Misha’s hole and he can feel the wetness that he left there and his dick gives a hopeful, but ultimately futile, twitch.

“I’ll take that as an ‘I love you too,’” Misha tells him and kisses him once more, quickly, before he gets up and heads to the bathroom.

Thirty or forty times, it’s probably been, that Jensen has asked Misha to marry him. Misha’s never even really acknowledged the questions, which is fine with Jensen since he’s never really been serious about it. Misha’s graduating this year though with his PhD in sociology and Jensen will be moving on in a couple of years as well.

They’re going to need to start thinking seriously about it. If not marriage, then at least the idea of them buying a house, getting a dog, building a life. They’ve put it off this long, probably because they both just assume it will happen, everything will fall into place because they’re in love and that’s the most important thing.

That sort of reasoning works for Misha, but Jensen’s the kind of guy who likes to have a plan. He wants to know that Misha’s got a job lined up a year from now, wants to know how much they’re each putting away every month to save up for a down payment on a mortgage, wants to know that Misha won’t be wooed by some human rights movement in California or feel like he just can’t pass up being on the front lines for the New Hampshire primary and move them halfway across the country. Or worse, go without him.

Jensen likes to plant roots and watch them grow. Misha likes things that are shiny and new.

“Stop it,” Misha says, catching him by surprise and flicking Jensen’s nose with his middle finger.

“Fuck off,” Jensen grumbles and bats Misha’s hand away.

Misha sits down next to Jensen on the couch, puts a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him in close.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. You and me,” he says. “Forever.”

Jensen feels warm all over, his heart swells and he’s so in love it hurts. Yes. _Yes_. Him and Misha. Forever.

“Just try and get rid of me,” he purrs and then breaks off into laughter when Misha’s stomach growls.

***

The next evening Jensen decides to hang around campus until Misha gets out of class so they can drive home together. He doesn’t get out ‘til ten, which means Jensen’s got three hours to kill, so he opens up his laptop and spreads three textbooks out on one of the larger tables in the student centre. He figures he’s got enough time to get that paper mostly finished, if doesn’t spend too much time fucking around on youtube first.

He’s got a cup of coffee on his right and giant cookie on his left, one that Misha baked this morning, chocolate chip with a pink fucking heart painted on it in frosting. He’d frowned when he finally dragged his ass out of bed in the morning and saw it sitting on the counter and told Misha there was no way in hell he was taking that anywhere anybody might see it.

He’d watched Misha pout and waited until he’d left the kitchen to get into his coat and shoes, before carefully wrapping the cookie up in plastic wrap and stuffing it into the front pocket of his backpack.

He smiles as he works a piece of the pink frosting loose with his thumb and then sucks the sweetness off his skin. He licks his lips and decides to give Misha a proper ‘thank you’ later on tonight and then he gets to work. He’s at it for a while, two hours probably and he’s gotten more done than he really thought he would, but then he’s interrupted, concentration shot, probably for the rest of the night. Oh well. It _had_ been a productive night.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

The words are purred into his ear and Jensen flinches back in his chair, stops just before he smacks his head against Jared’s chest and straightens up, a little stiffer than normal.

“Jared,” he says, watching him slide out from behind him to stand next to the table, hands resting lightly on the surface. “How’s it goin’?”

“A lot better now,” Jared says with a smile and slinks down into the seat across from Jensen.

“Jared,” Jensen says, shaking his head. “I’m a little busy right now. I’ve got a paper to write, and I’m waiting for someone.”

“That’s cool,” Jared answers, already opening up a book of his own. “I won’t make a peep.”

Jensen doesn’t believe him. It turns out, that’s with good reason.

“Go out with me,” Jared says after less than five minutes of silence during which Jensen tries and fails to finish writing one single sentence to his satisfaction. It’s not his fault. Even when he’s not talking, _especially_ when he’s not talking, Jared is _hot_. It’s distracting. Jensen blinks and looks up from his computer.

“No,” he answers simply and vainly hopes that will be the end.

“Come on. Friday night. After our study jam. Let’s go see a movie.”

“I don’t like movies.” It’s true, is the sad thing. He really doesn’t. Most of them are overrated and definitely a waste of time and money.

Jared trips over his smile for a second as he takes that in but then he relaxes again.

“That’s okay. We can just go hang out at your place. I have a roommate, so my dorm room’s out. Unless you like an audience.” He winks and then reaches forward suddenly to break off a piece of Jensen’s cookie, _Misha_ ’s cookie, like he has any right to it and tosses it in his mouth, moaning happily.

Jensen snaps his computer shut, throws his books in his bag and pushes back in his chair. He’s not going anywhere, not for another hour anyway but he knows he’s not getting any more work done tonight.

“It’s not happening, Jared,” he tells him, not unkindly. “I mean it. I’m not interested, so just drop it. Okay?”

Jared just smiles at him, puts his finger between the pages of the novel he’d been reading to keep his place.

“So you keep saying,” he says. “But I’m wearing you down, I can tell.”

“You’re not,” Jensen insists. And really, he’s not. He’s tempted, sure. He can admit that much. But nothing could ever tempt him enough to betray Misha. He hopes.

“Whatever you say,” Jared tells him and tucks his book back into his bag as he stands up. “I gotta get to work,” he says, nodding late night deli across the room. He bends down to press his lips to Jensen’s ear and Jensen _does not_ shiver as Jared whispers into his ear, “I’ll see you Friday night.”

He watches Jared walk away and checks his watch. Only forty-five more minutes until Misha’s out of class and Jensen’s world can make sense again.

It’s a damn long forty-five minutes.

***

Jensen’s spent, completely fucked out. He pulls Misha down for a perfunctory kiss while they both catch their breath. Sex is pretty much always awesome and it’s helped Jensen to blank out his mind for a while, lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh and reminded him once again that he’s exactly where he wants to be, that aggressive freshmen with sweet, sweet eyes don’t even register.

“Fuck, that was good,” Misha says, still a little winded as he rolls off Jensen, works his way out from between Jensen’s spread legs and curls up next to him with his head on Jensen’s shoulder. He works a hand down over Jensen’s chest, stomach, skims his fingertips over the mess on Jensen’s belly and his oversensitive cock before moving lower, back, sliding his fingers just barely inside Jensen and playing with his own come.

Misha loves come. Loves to play in it, loves to taste it, pretty much loves the fact that it exists. It’s sort of fucked up and it took Jensen a while to get okay with it, but at this point it doesn’t really bother him. It doesn’t really do it for him like it does Misha, but hell, Misha doesn’t complain when Jensen insists on shower sex some mornings because it saves time, when he knows that Misha isn’t really into that.

“I’m always good,” Jensen teases and wraps his arm tighter around Misha’s shoulder. They fall silent after that and it’s not long before he can feel Misha start to doze off. Jensen can tell because his fingers have stopped moving and now he’s only cupping Jensen’s balls in a loose grasp.

Jensen wants to fall asleep too. Really he does. He wants nothing more than to pull the blankets over them and drift off, happy and messy and completely confident that Misha is the only person he’ll ever want.

And he is. He really is. Still, he can’t get his stupid brain to shut off.

“Hey Mish?” he asks after a few minutes and waits for Misha to grunt in response. “Have you ever… been interested in someone? You know. Who wasn’t me?”

“Jensen?” Misha asks, voice overly casual and he goes sort of stiff next to him. It’s not like Jensen to hedge his way around things. He’s been pretty damn open about it in the past, when he’s seen someone he wouldn’t mind fucking and so has Misha.

“No I just mean… We’ve been together forever. Only two people besides me and your doctor have ever touched your dick and that was when you were seventeen. Don’t you… you know… wonder?”

“Jensen. If you’re asking if I fantasize, if I see a hot guy on television or on the street and wonder what they’d look like on their knees, then the answer is yes. Of course I do. But if you’re asking if I’d ever even _consider_ following through, then… Well, you should know me better than that.”

“No,” Jensen says, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know why he brought this up but now he really wishes he hadn’t. “Yeah. Of course. I just…”

“Why?” Misha asks, cutting him off. Which is just as well since Jensen doesn’t know how he would have finished that sentence. “Why are you wondering about this _now_?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is this about that kid in your class? The one you have a crush on?” Misha asks, and he’s smiling now. Misha thinks he’s got it figured out, thinks Jensen is nervous because he’s attracted to someone else and shit, maybe he’s right. It doesn’t really feel like it though. 

Jensen’s had crushes before. Of course he fucking has. He’s human and he hooked up with Misha when he was fifteen. Misha is the only person he’s ever been sexual with, and he’s only even _kissed_ a handful of other people before that, maybe a little bit of minor groping. But he’s not blind, or dead, so yeah, he’s had crushes. 

He knows what it feels like to dream about other guys, to jerk off thinking about George Clooney or his second year economics professor. To feel giddy and tingly when the girl who works at the fine arts library smiles and helps him find books he could easily find on his own. And this… _thing_ , this whatever the fuck is going on with Jared doesn’t feel anything like that. It doesn’t feel quick and dirty, doesn’t feel so perfect it can’t be real. It feels… like a betrayal. Makes him feel guilty when he hasn’t even _done_ anything. He just wants it to go away.

Jensen frowns and slides his hand down Misha’s arm, tangles their fingers together. “Jared?” he asks. His voice wavers a little too much for him to successfully feign confusion and his heart is starting to thud against his ribcage so hard that he’s sure Misha can feel it.

Misha grins against Jensen’s chest and playfully bites at the smooth skin. “You’ve got a crush on more than one kid in your class?”

“I don’t have a crush on Jared.” It’s not a crush. Crushes are safe.

“It’s okay if you do,” Misha tells him, snakes his tongue out over Jensen’s nipple.

“Well I don’t,” Jensen growls, maybe a bit too harsh and he can feel Misha’s smile fade against his skin, feel his face pull and tension radiate through his body.

Misha props himself up on one elbow and looks down at Jensen, narrows his brows and his eyes are so fucking beautiful. Christ. “Should I be worried?” he asks and he actually sort of sounds like he is, which is just all kinds of fucked up.

Misha’s never worried. Brad Pitt could walk up to Jensen and beg to suck his cock and Misha would be absolutely and completely confident that Jensen would send him away with a pat on the head and a ‘thanks but no thanks’. Misha never doubts them. That’s Jensen’s one constant.

“He’s hot,” Jensen concedes with a sigh. “But I’m not interested, I swear.”

“Jensen.”

“I mean it,” he promises. “Guy can’t fucking take ‘no’ for an answer, but I’m not interested. I love you. Now give me some sugar, baby,” he teases with a ridiculous smile.

Misha studies him for a minute, but he must believe him because he smiles softly and kisses the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “I love you too.”

***

“So I’ll see you at _The Underground_ tonight?” Misha asks as Jensen kisses him goodbye just after lunch on Friday.

“Fuck,” Jensen curses under his breath. He’d forgotten they’d planned on heading out with a few friends to the bar down the road to hear one of the local bands and knock back a few. “Sorry baby,” he says, kissing Misha again as he hikes his bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I have to work. Fuck, I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Misha says, but Jensen can tell it really isn’t. “I’ll let you to make it up to me later. So what’s up?”

“Hmm?” Jensen asks as he checks his pockets to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys.

“What’s with the working on a Friday night? Morgan cracking the whip again?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just some student needs a little extra help. Shouldn’t take long. I’ll be home long before you.”

“I’ll miss you,” Misha tells him and Jensen has no doubt that he will. He smiles and rolls his eyes, slaps Misha on the ass as he opens the door.

“You too,” he says and steps out into the hallway. He doesn’t feel guilty for being purposefully vague about his plans for the night. He doesn’t.

***

Jensen’s not drunk. He’s not under any kind of influence at all, except maybe flattery, so he has absolutely no excuse for what he does. He should push Jared away, hell, he should punch him square in the nose if that’s what it takes to drive the message home, but he doesn’t. When Jared leans across the beat-up old couch in Jensen’s office after two and a half hours of studying and kisses him, Jensen just kind of… lets him.

“No,” he says, which is at least something, but the word comes out so weak and broken that even _he_ doesn’t believe he means it. It’s no wonder Jared doesn’t believe it either.

“Yes,” Jared says and kisses him again, pushing their notes aside so he can cup the back of Jensen’s neck and pull him in closer.

It’s not Misha. That’s the first thing Jensen thinks and it’s nowhere near as good as Misha. It _is_ good though, there’s no denying that and even as he pulls back and mumbles “no” again a few more times, Jared works his lips across Jensen’s jaw and neck, and slides off the couch to settle on his knees in front of Jensen.

It’s _so fucking good_ , and also really, really bad when two minutes later he’s got his dick stuffed down Jared’s throat and he’s seconds away from shooting his load. Jared looks good like that, looks just like Jensen ever imagined he would but he doesn’t want this. Fuck, he doesn’t want this but he can’t fucking stop because yes, he does want this, a little.

It’s new, this is the first time anyone besides Misha has ever done this for him and it’s exciting and Jared is _good_ at this and he knows it’s a mistake but he’s already five minutes in and really, it’s too late to stop now.

“Jared,” he rasps out, the name catching in his throat and Jared moans around him, thinks it’s only lust that’s breaking Jensen in half when it’s just as much guilt and regret.

Jared hums again, bucks his crotch up against Jensen’s leg a few more times and Jensen can feel the exact moment when Jared loses his shit, goes still and tense and then relaxes. It’s hotter than it should be, Jared coming in his pants, humping Jensen’s leg, and Jensen comes a few seconds later, can’t not. It hurts more than it feels good.

He can’t believe he just did this. He’s a disgusting, horrible cheater. He kissed his boyfriend this morning and told him he loved him and now he’s got his dick in some other guy’s mouth and his come down the guy’s throat. 

He fights down a wave of nausea as he pushes Jared back and his heart lurches at the smile he sees turned up at him. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, how did he let his happen?

“That was…” Jared starts, a dreamy sort of lilt to his voice as he sits back on his heels. 

“A mistake,” Jensen cuts him off, stands up abruptly and tucks himself back into his pants. “This was… Jared, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Why not?” Jared asks, standing up as well. “Look, Jensen, I like you. You obviously like me. I know you’re freaked out because you’re my TA or whatever, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

“That’s not…” Jensen says, breaks off and turns his back to Jared, runs his fingers through his hair in agitation. “That’s not why I’m freaked out. I’m _not_ freaked out. I just… We shouldn’t have done that, and we’re not doing it again. Okay?”

“Not okay,” Jared says and he puts his hand on Jensen’s arm to turn him around. 

“Jared…”

“I need to go home and change,” Jared says, smiling shyly and darting his eyes down to the front of his come-covered pants. “But this isn’t over. You can pretend all you want, but there’s something here. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Jensen opens his mouth to protest but Jared cuts him off with a mash of lips and tongue. Jensen responds. Just for a second, just barely presses his tongue to Jared’s, just gives him the slightest hint of a nibble and a pucker, but it’s there and he hates himself.

He pushes Jared back, shakes his head.

“No,” he says for probably the fifth time tonight. “This isn’t what you think it is. Just go, Jared. Please.”

Jared does, but not without one more blinding smile that follows one more kiss on Jensen’s tense cheek.

“I’ll see you Tuesday,” he says again, and when the office door closes behind him Jensen’s coming up with ways he might be able to put Tuesday off indefinitely. Temporal mechanics has never been his strong suit, but one of his office mates is into it, has some textbooks on the shelf and Jensen’s pretty desperate at this point.

***

It’s past two in the morning when he finally gets home and he tries not to wake Misha up when he crawls into bed after a quick shower.

“You said you’d beat me home,” Misha mumbles into the pillow and Jensen’s heart clenches, freezes and then beats overtime.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Took longer than I thought. Sorry.”

“You promised to make it up to me,” Misha says, but his face is still in his pillow. “I’m too tired to fuck right now. And I’m pretty smashed. But you’re coming with me to Justin’s party tomorrow night. Kay?”

“Yeah,” Jensen chokes out and he bites back a wave of tears. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

He pulls the blanket up over his legs and his hand hovers over Misha’s hip. He wants to touch him, wants to grab hold and never let go but he doesn’t deserve to. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Misha says a few seconds later, turning to face Jensen and cup his cheek with a warm palm. “What’s going on? I can feel you brooding from all the way over here.”

“Nothing,” Jensen says, shakes his head and puts his hand over Misha’s. “It’s nothing. God I love you. So much.”

Misha frowns and his thumb slides across Jensen’s bottom lip.

“You sure you’re okay?”

No. No, he’s not even a little bit okay.

“Yeah,” he lies. “Yeah, just tired.”

“Sleep now,” Misha orders, presses a kiss to Jensen’s nose. “Hot sex in the morning.”

Jensen smiles despite himself and watches while Misha promptly passes out. Jensen doesn’t get much sleep at all.

***

Jensen manages to get out of the hot morning sex. Also the hot brunch sex, the hot afternoon sex and the hot pre-party sex. Misha’s sort of pissed off, he can tell, but Jensen just _can’t_ right now. Can’t hold Misha down and slide into him, run his tongue across Misha’s neck and grab hold of his hair, pull and push and own him the way they both love. 

He can’t because he’s tainted now. Because he gave in to some fucked up temptation that he didn’t even realise was a danger until it was too late. Because Misha deserves better than him.

He has to tell him. He knows he has to tell him but every time he looks at Misha it just feels like the wrong time. Misha’s busy, or angry or happy and it all just seems like the wrong time.

Turns out he’s wrong about that, though. Any time between last night and right now would have been a whole lot fucking better than the way it actually comes out.

They’re at Justin’s place, some senior with way too much money and friends accordingly. Jensen’s standing out on the back porch of the townhouse with a beer in his hand, watching Misha shotgun hits off Justin’s joint when he feels arms wrap around him from behind.

His first instinct is to tense up, to pull away because Jensen doesn’t really like people to touch him. Nobody besides Misha or his mother anyway. Not even his best friends and none of them is at this party.

His second instinct, the one that kicks in immediately after he hears the low rumble of Jared’s voice in his hear, deep and gravelly and saying “And here I thought I’d have to wait two whole days,” is to jump, turn around and push Jared back.

“What the fuck?” he asks, eyes wide as he looks around and sees that Misha’s still busy with his lips pressed up tight against Justin’s. Thank God, and that’s the first time Jensen’s ever been happy about his boyfriend damn near making out with another guy right in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party,” Jared answers, frowning. He steps closer to Jensen and Jensen steps back, puts his hand out to keep Jared at arms length. “A friend invited me. What’s wrong? Is it because there are people around? I thought after last night that we… Oh, hey man.” 

Jared directs the last three words somewhere over Jensen’s shoulder and Jensen bites his lip and prays. Either the line is broken or God’s not listening because pretty much his worst nightmare starts to unfold right in front of him.

“Jared,” Jared smiles, holding out his hand and Jensen follows the long line of his arm to find Misha’s fingers wrapped around Jared’s as they shake hands.

“Misha,” Misha smiles and Jesus where did he come from? The guy is like a fucking ninja. “What about last night?” He sounds pleasant. Much too pleasant. He puts an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and pulls him against his side, smiles slightly at Jared and Jensen lets out a long breath through his nose.

“Misha, just…”

“No,” Misha says. “Don’t stop on my account. You were saying something about last night?”

Jensen takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly while he tries to work up the nerve, find the right words to make this all go away, but he can’t.

“Jared, Misha’s my… my boyfriend.”

Jared’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, stumbles over a crack in the pavement and rights himself.

“Boyfriend?” he gasps. “Jensen… You have a _boyfriend_?”

“Yeah. I…”

“I can’t believe you have a fucking boyfriend!” Jared whisper-shouts. “You _asshole_!”

“Yeah,” he answers, because really there’s no arguing with that. He really is an asshole.

Jared gives him one last dirty look and stomps off, leaving Jensen standing next to Misha. He’s calm, slightly stiff and he’s looking at Jensen like he could possibly say anything that could make this situation better. For a second he thinks Misha is going to yell at him too, because it’s very obvious at this point that something happened between him and Jared that shouldn’t have, but Misha’s not like that. He doesn’t blow up. When something is important he thinks things through and acts rationally. 

Jensen flounders for a split second but then looks after Jared, sees him grab two shots off the table inside and down them both before he takes off into one of the bedrooms with a bottle of beer.

“Fuck,” Jensen mutters and then looks back to his boyfriend. “Misha… I…”

“Go,” Misha says on a sigh.

“What?” he blinks and looks back in the direction Jared had taken off.

“Go. You obviously need to talk things out, so go.”

“Misha,” he says, reaching his hand out to touch Misha’s. “I don’t…”

Misha flinches back and Jensen feels the lack of touch like a kick to the chest.

“You need to deal with him. And I sort of can’t be near you right now, so you’d better just…” He trails off and waves a hand in the general direction that Jared went.

“Misha, please,” he says, taking half a step closer. “Just give me a chance to…”

“To explain? No, not right now. I know you, Jensen. And you can’t leave Jared like that. Go. Deal with it. I’ll talk to you… I don’t know. Later.”

“Misha, I…” he says but Misha pushes past him. 

“Later,” he says and disappears into the crowd.

Jensen takes a minute or two to catch his breath before he heads inside and slips into the room he saw Jared go into earlier. There are half a dozen people in there, sprawled on the bed and the floor, talking, drinking, but Jared is standing stiffly by the bed with two other people, shoulders hunched.

“Hey,” he says and Jared whips around and narrows his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asks, even as a few of the others smile and wave, offer him drunken, obligatory salutations.

“Can we uh… talk?” he asks, nodding to the hallway beside him.

“About?” Jared asks coldly.

“You know what about. Come on, Jared. Please.”

Jared’s eyes harden further and Jensen fights the urge to fall to his knees and apologise and then Jared nods once and follows him out of the room. He closes the door behind them and gives Jensen a shove, not hard enough to do any damage but he gets his point across.

“How could you…” he starts. “I thought it was just a hang-up because I’m your student. I mean, I could tell you were interested. You wanted it, I know you did. But you… I can’t believe you have a fucking boyfriend. That’s low, man.”

“I know,” Jensen mutters. “Look, Jared… I told you no. I said it a dozen times. And yeah. Yes, okay? I was interested. I’m attracted to you. But I never meant to… I’m sorry for letting things go as far as they did. I fucked up. I was flattered and I was attracted to you and I fucked up. I should have told you about him.”

“If I’d known,” Jared says, wiping his fingers over his chin, “I never would have tried anything. I swear. That’s not me. And you’re a fucking jackass for fucking us both over. I _like_ you!”

“I like you too,” Jensen tells him with a watery smile. “I really do, Jared. Which is why I let things get so fucked up. And I can tell you that I’m sorry, beg you to forgive me, but it won’t change the fact that I seriously screwed up here.”

“Are you… gonna stay with him?”

“If he’ll have me,” Jensen shrugs. He won’t be surprised if Misha never wants to see him again but his boyfriend has an amazing ability to forgive just about anything, so he’s hopeful. “Look, if you want to switch to another class, or file a complaint or something, I get it. I won’t blame you. Just… Just please know that I’m sorry.”

“I think I will,” Jared says, and Jensen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. So now he’s lost the love of his life _and_ his job, all at once. Because Jared bats his eyelashes and suddenly Jensen can’t keep it in his pants.

He nods and opens his eyes, bites his bottom lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“No. I mean… I’ll switch sections. Ask professor Morgan if I can go to Monday tutorials instead. I’ll tell him it’s a scheduling thing. I won’t… I’m not gonna get you in shit with the school over this. I just don’t think I can be in your class anymore. Not when I feel like this and not when you… _Fuck_ , you’re a shithead.”

“I really am,” Jensen tells him. “And I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are. Listen, I… I kind of hate you right now. But maybe one day I won’t, and I’ll see you around, huh?”

“That sounds good,” Jensen says, because really there’s nothing else to say.

***

Misha’s not home when he gets there, but that’s not surprising.

He calls his cell phone a dozen times over the next three days and never gets a response, which is even less surprising. It’s not until Tuesday morning that Misha finally comes home. Jensen is picking at a bowl of oatmeal and watching the morning news when the door opens, and he holds his breath, his hand freezing with the spoon on the edge of the bowl as he waits.

There’s some shuffling, a door closing, some footfalls. Another door opening, closing again and it’s five more minutes of Jensen frozen in place before their bedroom door opens and Misha comes into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from Jensen at the table.

Jensen nearly swallows his tongue in his effort to answer.

“Hey!” he barks and then realises how stupidly eager he sounds. “Um, I mean… hi. You’re… hi. You’ve been gone a few days.”

Fuck, can he sound any more like a moron? Of course he’s been gone. Jensen fucking _cheated_ on him, for fuck’s sake. If Jensen was in his place he wouldn’t have bothered coming back at all. He’d have sent someone to get his shit and wished Misha chlamydia for his troubles.

Okay, no, he wouldn’t have. He’d have stayed gone for longer than a few days though and when he came back he’d have been a pissy little bitch for _months_.

Misha though, Misha just nods, licks his lips and crosses his arms on the table in front of him.

“Are you leaving me?” he asks. “For him?”

Jensen blinks and jerks his head to clear it, opens his mouth and blinks again.

“Are you… _no_. No. Of _course_ not. I… I know I fucked up here. God, baby I’m so sorry. I don’t…”

Misha nods a stilted nod and bites his lip.

“I asked you. Two days before you fucked him, I asked if I had anything to be worried about and you _promised_ me it was nothing. You lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t…” Jensen says, shaking his head. “We didn’t… It was just…”

“Don’t,” Misha bites out, stopping his confession. “I really don’t want to hear it. You betrayed me.”

“I did,” Jensen agrees, because it’s true. “Are you… are you leaving _me_?”

Misha doesn’t answer for so long that Jensen’s gone over a dozen different scenarios where Misha tells him to go to Hell and then brings his new boyfriend home and fucks him right in front of Jensen.

“No,” he finally says, and Jensen has to shake his head because he couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“No?”

“Jensen I love you,” Misha tells him, smiling slightly, briefly. “And everybody makes mistakes. If that’s what this was, I can… _we_ can get over this. It’s going to take time, but… No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Are you…” Jensen says, almost unable to believe his boyfriend is quite this awesome. “You are too good to be true. Seriously.”

“You can start grovelling any time now,” Misha tells him, kicking back in his chair. He looks cool, composed, but Jensen knows him and he knows he’s not nearly as calm as he’s pretending to be. He’s hurting and it’s Jensen’s fault and Jensen will do whatever it takes to make them better.

“I’m an idiot. I’m a jerk and fucked up so huge,” Jensen says, pushing his breakfast aside and leaning across the table toward Misha. “But I love you. I’ve loved you since I knew how and my whole life I’ve never wanted anyone else, not really. What happened the other night… I don’t even know. I let my guard down and things happened and…”

He scrambles up from the table, can’t sit still any longer and he falls to his knees on the floor in front of Misha, takes Misha’s hands in his own and looks up at him, swallows down tears. He won’t cry right now. He’s not allowed. He’s not the victim here.

“I’m _so sorry_. I love you.”

“I know,” Misha answers, rubs his thumbs over the backs of Jensen’s hands.

“Marry me,” he says and his eyes go wide because where in the fuck did that come from? He knows it’s reflex but the really fucked up thing is this time he means it. He knows he doesn’t deserve it but he really, really means it this time.

Misha looks down at him, smiles crookedly.

“Ask me again after I’ve forgiven you,” he says and Jensen chokes on a wet laugh, feels lighter than he has in days. At least it’s not a _no_. 

END


End file.
